Draconic Supremacy
by DeLacus
Summary: Five years prior the War of Wrath, a modern girl wakes up as a young dragon. Ancalagon the Black secretly adopts her; and tolerating a young Smaug is no easy feat. Years later, she re-meets the adult Smaug: A more haughty, obsessive and possessive jerk-ass of a dragon. She vows to put him in his place, and he plays her game . . . Eventual SmaugXOC. More of a T/M rating. AU.
1. To Dragon Or Not To Dragon

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*** Note I – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***

*** Note II – This fanfic: Just 'cause I have yet to see a a fic where a modern person ends up in Middle-Earth as a **DRAGON**. I've read many other ones (Oh My Goodness, I freaking love them!), but not ones where he/she is a dragon . . . However, if there are some lurking about, please do tell me~ \(^0^)/ ***

*** Note III – Hope thou, my lovely future readers, enjoy~ This fic, unlike my other two that are already posted (and the others that I'm eventually going to post) is more for _just experimentation, entertainment and amusement purposes_. My imagination LOVES to go wild~ ( ._.) ***

*** Note IV – Oh yeah; the very beginning is in third person, but the rest is in first~ I don't usually write in first person, but I try~ X_X Any mistakes~? Please don't hesitate; I listen well~ :D ***

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**~ 000 - To Dragon Or Not To Dragon ~**

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"They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle Earth."

~ George R.R. Martin

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"_I never would have thought that I'd find someone worth more than all of these gold and jewels combined_. _More than all of the inanimate treasures of the world_. _You have changed me for the better, my lovely one_. _Become my mate_."

"_What_ . . . ?" _She loved him. She did not expect to, but she could not have helped it. They had (it was mostly him doing the initiating) played around as stress-relievers and pleasure-fulfillers, but she had grown to love him. She had not expected him to feel the same._

"_I love you_. _I know I am not entirely_ . . . _considerable in the feeling, for I have never felt this way before_. _I am so very sorry for the way I treated you; I truly regret it. I will not force you; you deserve better_. . .

_She softly called his name._

". . . _But I cannot shake off my feelings that love you so_."

_The two dragons, who currently took to their secondary forms as elves, gazed deeply into each other's eyes._

_Two tears trailed down from her shining, lavender eyes. They were tears of joy; but he assumed the opposite, as concern filled his fiery golden orbs. Instinct had him taking her into his arms. She smiled a dazzling one at him and he rose a brow in puzzlement. _Crying and smiling?_ He thought._

"_Tears of joy, you idiot_," _she lightly laughed at his expression. _

_And then she gave him her answer._

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"Smaug is an ass," I mumble as I plop _The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug_ DVD in its corresponding case. After placing it in the DVD rack next to my family's living room's large flat-screen TV, I turn to my awesome friend, who hogged the black leather couch with her legs.

"He's a handsome dragon, though," my friend, Vanessa, spoke up with a snicker, who coincidently just literally inhaled the last of her Snickers bar.

Well I cannot deny that. The guy who Peter Jackson hired did do a phenomenal job on that red dragon. "A handsome ass. Oh my goodness, if Smaug had an elven form –"

"– He'd be drop-dead sexy. Sex material right there," finished my friend with a day-dreamy look in her eyes. Hey, is that drool . . . ? Her next question broke me out of my thoughts. "Shall we continue our Tolkien-based movie marathon?"

"After we get Starbucks. I'm craving the edibles of Starbucks."

As soon as I mentioned 'Starbucks' the first time, Vanessa leaped up off of the couch. She almost tripped too, the clumsy girl. She's obsessed with Starbucks. I love it too; I'm just not . . . that . . . intensely passionate about the brand. . .

Anyways, we grab our purses that were lying about on the glass coffee table, and we ran to the front door. She dressed her feet in her low-cut baby pink converse as I shove mine into my three-inch, black and white floral sandal wedges. We then walk our seventeen-year-old selves out of my mothers' house (of course after locking the door).

Yes, mother's house. My father died when I was younger. At least our economic status is very supportive because mom is a Chartered Professional Accountant. But she is rather busy . . . I don't see her as much as I would like too. . .

Anyways, I digress.

Damn, today's a hot day. . .

"Felicity! Where are you going?" I hear my friend call my name. I turn to her to find that I walked past the Starbucks entrance.

I briefly flush with slight embarrassment, and I hiss a, "Shut it," before she could make a snarky comment.

We entered the café and – oh goody, a short line! And beautiful air-conditioning!

…

Vanessa and I slowly saunter through the somewhat busy streets of Toronto. It's too hot to move any faster. . .

I sip my large green tea Starbucks Frappuccino, savoring its' heavenly taste. Oh my God, it's so beautiful . . . and cold . . . Ahhhhhhh.

"Ladies and gentlemen," my friend speaks up from her large mocha Frappuccino, pretending she has an audience, and gestures to me. "This is what sex sounds like."

My lips instantly detach from the black straw. "Go away!"

"You were moaning," Vanessa laughs, her brown eyes full of the desire to tease. "And your face looked like it was in utmost ecstasy."

"Okay. Alright. I don't care. This tastes amazing; so of course I'll behave like that!"

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Dying is not very fun. Especially when it isn't swift.

Vanessa and I both swore that the crossing lane was completely pedestrian-ready. However, some dude riding a black and silvery-grey motorbike just happened to zoom by, crashing into me. It did not quite effect that bastard, he kept zooming by. In a hurry much? Ugh, some people. . .

Anyways, I flew some feet into the air, my half drank green tea frap falling out of my hand. My friend screamed as I plop onto the hot and hard blackish-grey pavement. Head first. I hear bones cracking, too. The pain is immense and I feel warm liquid around my black hair.

I could not move, and my vision darkened slowly. I could not make out anything Vanessa was saying to me. My hearing's going out, too. She cried as she tried talking to me; something along the lines of "already called 911."

Some time passed, I know not how many seconds or minutes. I could barely hear sirens as my eyelids close half way.

And then I saw nothing. My ears hear nothing. My mind is instantly severed from the connection between the spirit and the corporeal body.

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Some people say that when you die, you die. It is the end. Such morbid thinkers . . . Ah, who am I to judge anyways?

Others say that you would have moved on, so to speak. Like heaven, or its' damned opposite, or other forms of heaven. Or even having being reincarnated.

And then there are some who say, "Death is but the next great adventure." That it is unexpected where you will end up. And that no one really knows what happens next.

Well, let us just say that my situation is the very latter.

I feel light and airy as my spirit travels through translucent clouds, extremely bright golden light; and black space, covered in colourful gasses and bright and shiny stars.

As soon as I reach the centre of a completely white light, everything becomes a pure black.

And then I feel a hard, organic surface. I blink and hiss quietly at the bright sunlight. The air smells so much fresher! It is cool and a little chilly, but it is not unbearable. My eyes finally adjust to the sunlight, and my vision is graced with mountainous rock. I conclude that I am in the mountains as I look to my surroundings. The mountains are greyish, and are kind of a sandy-brown, too. There are also darker brown and more blackish areas as the mountain extends upwards.

I feel no pain, but my body feels weird. Unnatural. And heavy, in a way. This whole situation feels unnatural. I could be in another world. That is not quite believable, but this all seems so real!

I immediately freeze as I stand to my feet. Four feet are connected to the firm stone-like ground, not two. I slowly look down and cry out at the sight of scaly lavender hands . . . feet . . . claws . . . whatever!

What the hell did I just turn into? I hope not a lizard.

I take hurried and panicked steps along the mountain terrain, avoiding the sharper and jagged rocks protruding from the mountain's floors and walls. I need to find something in which to view my reflection in.

After ten minutes of searching, I find a medium-sized pond. The fuck? A pond in the mountains? Well, I guess it can happen.

I run to the pond and gasp in utter shock at my reflection. I am speechless.

I am a dragon.

A young and small dragon. I wager that I'm the size of a horse or something. My lavender skin-stretched wings are also small, and not quite fully developed. Damn it. I have to wait to fly.

My scales are also a lavender colour. It is a lovely tone; however, I had black hair. So shouldn't my scales be black? Ah well, lavender is my favorite colour, after all. My scales are also soft; and are not yet to that stronger-than-any-type-of-metal kind of level. Oh, I rhymed!

My eyes were more of a grey as a human, albeit now they are a shining silver. I release a sigh of mixed emotions – Oh my Lord, those are some sharp teeth. . .

So, where exactly am I?

The wind picks up its' pace as I hear the beat of wings. Three sets of wings, actually. I cease my moping and haul my dragon-ass towards some rocks, hiding in between their crevices. Thank you, small dragon body. And thank you, rocks, for being big yet discrete enough.

Three enormous dragons land within that spacious, pond-like area. Two of them – a chocolate-scaled dragon and a pale green-scaled dragon – helped themselves to some water.

My gaze, however, is drawn to the gargantuan black-scaled dragon; who seems to be dwarfing the other two. They may be large, but they only come up to half of his height.

The colossal, proud-looking dragon scans the area around him. Seriously, that dragon is a freaking beauty! His scales are the loveliest and shiniest of black I had ever seen. His eyes are a stunning ruby-red. One could get lost in them, although I am not planning to.

And it was not until I heard the chocolate-scaled dragon addressing his name that I realize that I am in Tolkien's Middle-Earth.

"Lord Ancalagon. Was there not movement here?"

The pale green-scaled dragon sniffs at the air and gave a low growl. "I smell you, spy! Come out!"

Oh shit.

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

*** After Note II – Future chapters will be longer. This is just a prologue~ (OxO) ***

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	2. The Black And The Lavender

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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***

***** Note III – With this story, I'll be switching through two different perspectives: First person present tense and third person past tense~ The first person will always be in Felicity's point of view~ (._. ) *****

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**~ 001 - The Black And The Lavender ~**

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"I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?"

~ John Lennon

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I, Felicity the seventeen-year-old ex-human, is now a young lavender dragon in Arda – some time, I gather from Ancalagon's still being alive, in the First Age.

And I'm pretty sure that I am in some deep shit if these dragons find me.

I am still tucked safely (hopefully) in between some greyish-brown jagged rocks, that wind up in a small cave-like way. There are teeny-tiny spaces in which I can see through, and so I try to stay still, not moving unless I absolutely have to.

The pale green-scaled dragon impatiently slams his tail onto the hard ground, creating a small tremor within the area; along with a few cracks and some flying debris. His razor-like claws dig a little into the stone, creating small dents. "Come out, now!" His voice is as violent as is actions and I tremble at the tone of it.

"Peace, Corulagon!" The great black dragon's voice is deeply toned, calm, yet commanding. "We are here to make small rest. We've been summoned to Angband, and so we do not have the time for pointless conflict."

"I do not –!"

"The scent could be but a lingering one. She probably even left ten minutes prior our arrival," The chocolate brown-scaled dragon interrupts the other in a bored voice accompanied with a hint of irritation in the undertone.

Wait, they can immediately tell that I am female? Well. . .

The chocolate brown dragon continued. "And so, if you do not mind, please calm your anger. Your temper is worse than that of the tiny Smaug – and he is only twenty summers young."

The dragon whom I gather as 'Corulagon' scowls at his brown companion and turns his horned head away. His nostrils flare a bit as a gust of heavy air releases from them.

I rest my head in between my claws and close my eyes, hoping that they will soon leave.

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Corulagon stretched his great pale green wings and ascended into the air, his yellow-golden eyes full of impatience. The chocolate brown dragon, Jura, rolled his light blue eyes. He also took off into the blue and sunny skies, albeit kept a slower pace in waiting for his lord dragon.

Ancalagon the Black, the greatest of all dragons since the slaying of Glaurung by Túrin Turambar, did have a lingering suspicion as he stretched out his enormous ebony black wings. His head was trained to that little cave-like gathering of jagged rocks, which were against a mountain wall and surrounded by more rocks.

His ruby red eyes had caught the sight of a purplish colour – a lavender – through one of the tiny gaps in the rocks. He pondered a bit, for one does not see that colour around these parts. He sniffed around the area some more.

A familiar female-like scent.

A small space.

An exotic colour.

Such a colour in which donned scales.

He pulled his large, black nostrils away from that gathering of rocks and instantly leaped up into the air.

He knew that scent belonged to a young dragoness. What puzzled him was that there was a small human-like scent mixed in with the other.

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Twenty minutes passed, I think, and so I open my eyes and peer through the cracks. So they are gone!

Wow. For being about the size of a horse, I can sure fold myself into some tight places.

Anyways, I extend my long neck and peer out into the open, specifically towards that pond area. I see the small yet deadly damage done to the stony ground by Corulagon (if I recall his name correctly) and I shudder at the thought of myself being in place of that dented and cracked ground.

I take slow steps until I am fully in the sun; and then I take about ten slow steps away from my little hiding spot. All the while, I let my eyes trail around my surroundings.

I suddenly plop onto the hard and dusty ground, sitting. I don't know where to go, or what exactly to do . . . Nor do I know where in Middle-Earth I am. It is of the greatest possibility that I am in Beleriand; but where in Beleriand?

I stand up again and I stretch my small wings, soon folding them back against my lavender body. I can't fly yet, anyways. If only these wings would hurry up and grow.

"Ah, so you were hiding in _there_. Hello, little one."

I give a loud squeak of shock (and in part-dread) as I jump a little at the deep and smooth voice. I see Ancalagon the Black towering before me, shadowing myself and a medium-sized portion of the area surrounding me from the sun. How did he just appear? I did not even hear him!

He is intimidating to me, albeit his expression is neutrally unreadable with a tinge of amusement in his other-worldly red eyes. He makes me uneasy – perhaps this feeling is unnecessary; but he is, after all, Sauron's equal in rank, trustworthiness and loyalty to Morgoth.

"Why will you not talk?"

Ancalagon lowers his large and elegantly horned head towards me, albeit keeping a comfortable distance between us. Despite this, I whimper, and I can't help but slowly move my clawed feet backwards. My ass bumps into a wide and tall rock; and I look anywhere, avoiding him. I can't help but tremble as well.

I hope this goes well. It may not, but I shall be optimistic. Dragons can be one of your greatest allies and yet one of your worst enemies.

"No . . . Please, I will not harm you, little one."

His tone is a little softer and patient; and as I look up, I could swear that his expression is that of a father's concern. It immediately changes to a more neutral and unreadable one as I briefly glance into the black dragon's eyes.

"Does the little one not have a voice?"

Ancalagon lowers his body in a resting position, similar to that of Egypt's Great Sphinx. His forearms extend and his claws come a mere teen feet away from myself. He then rests his head atop his forefeet, gazing directly at me. His ruby orbs gaze into my silver ones expectantly. I guess he really wants me to talk. . .

Gathering my courage, I take a gulp, and my voice falters a bit as I begin. "Why do you call me, 'little one'?" As soon as I finish my question, my mind explodes. This is horrendous; how does my voice sound so child-like? I sound like a pre-mature tween! Cue mental crying. Well, it looks like I'll have to (again) grow some more in order to retrieve my womanly voice. . .

Wait, I'm seventeen . . . So I'm technically a "baby" in dragon years . . . How many years will I have to wait in order to be considered an adult?

The dragon lord before me releases a short and deep chuckle. "Because you are so tiny! So you can speak."

I ignore the fact that his answer somewhat insulted me. I _am_ rather tiny compared to him. No use arguing. And so I ask two more questions, slightly cringing (yet mainly ignoring) my new and child-like voice. "I thought you have somewhere to go? And are your companions here?"

"I sent them ahead if me; and I believe my Lord Morgoth can spare a thirty-minute lateness. I couldn't have waited; I needed to confirm my suspicions."

My trembling stopped. I ask my next question, half fearing the answer. "Will you kill me?" I mean, for all I know, his, I guess, friendly behaviour could be a deception. To catch me off guard.

At my question, Ancalagon speedily rises his head, accompanied with a horrified expression. "Goodness, no! I have never killed another of my kind, and I do not plan on eventually doing so. Especially to one so young . . . Who are your parents? Why are you here all alone?"

Wow . . . For a being supposedly created from Morgoth's evilness; a well-respected and greatly feared Lord of Dragons, he sure can be caring and compassionate. Perhaps he's not all that diabolical after all . . . ? Perhaps there's more to Ancalagon the Black than what Tolkien himself had written about. This is, after all, no longer a work of fiction.

It is a reality.

"Little one? Is something wrong?" Ancalagon returns his head atop his forehands.

I shake my head. "No, I'm alright." Nah, I'm not. Not really. "I don't recall how I ended up here. I just . . . woke up here without remembering."

Ancalagon just blinks his eyes at me, and cocks his head to the side a little. I continue: "And I don't have parents. They died." Well, my mother's alive, but she's a human . . . in Toronto, Canada . . . on _Earth_ . . . Despite this great dragon's niceties towards myself, I cannot trust him entirely.

The Lord of Dragons does not say anything. Perhaps he is speechless? Is it not so common for young dragons who are my age to not have parents?

His eyes look a little pained as he sits up; and for a moment, his ruby red eyes glaze over in a foggy hypnosis. His eyelids blink thrice after a minute, their full colour returning to them. "I may have stayed here longer than I have planned to. Forgive me, but I will have to leave you here – The mountainous iron fortress of Angband is no place for a little dragoness."

Before I can respond, he continues. "There is a decent cave on this level of the mountain, close to here. I suggest staying there for the night."

I give a small nod in understanding. "Will you come back?"

Wow, I sound like such a child. I sound so dependent on him . . . This new younger voice of mine ain't helping, either. . .

The black dragon answers. "On the morrow. Do not leave this place; it is dangerous if you do."

I, again, nod my head twice in understanding. I know. Compared to the future Ages of Middle-Earth, the First Age is the most dangerous. And while I don't particularly enjoy being told what to do, I myself, does not even know what to do if I ignore his . . . recommendations.

Extending his wings, Ancalagon leaps up into the skies. I close my eyes at the few-second heavy and intense wind current from the first flap of his wings.

I wish I can do that . . . Blow crap away and stuff whilst looking like a majestic boss. . .

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Ancalagon the Black never liked Sauron. Nor will he ever like him.

Sauron, one of the stronger of the Maiar, never liked Ancalagon. And also, nor will he ever reconsider the feeling.

It was near the end of a short – although imperative – meeting with the ex-Vala, Morgoth, which the two enemies on the same side had a mini fight.

To what they argued about, the authoress shall not say; but Sauron taunted, and Ancalagon returned with insults.

Morgoth simply sat with devious amusement on his iron throne in Angband as the Maia and the Lord of Dragons argued. Despite the darkness, the two out of the three stolen Silmarilli that were embedded onto his grey-black spiked crown gleamed every so brightly. A Balrog sentinel carried a message to the fallen Ainu; and so ignoring the others' bickering, Morgoth received said message. He sneered, for what he had planned would have gone so much easier if Gothmog and Glaurung were still alive.

"Save your deceptive words for your pathetic actions! I'll have no use for them, _Mairon_!"

The one who used to be called 'Melkor' returned his attentions towards his dragon and Maia. He gave a smirk, sick amusement written all over his face. _Shouldn't have mentioned that name, Ancalagon _. . . And the Dark Lord observed their following actions; mostly looking forward as to what Sauron would do.

Sauron, who currently took to his commonly favorite form – a tall ellon with fiery ruby red eyes and lusciously shiny, waist-length straight raven black hair (accompanied with a few random curls) – had given the dragon lord he detested a rather stunning yet smug, mocking grin. Until he had mentioned that name.

The Maiar's face slowly contorted with rage; and his eyes burned with the desire to kill the gargantuan beast. Without warning – and so suddenly that it even started Ancalagon for a second – Sauron lifted his right arm. His grip onto his signature, elegantly designed and spiked black-grey mace tightened and he swung it. A certain magic, an invisible force or what-have-you, released from the weapon; and it knocked the great dragon several feet away.

Ancalagon gave a short and low roar-like groan, as his giant body smashed into a hard mountain-carved pillar. The pillar fell and crumbled below, and on top of, the dragon. That blow had hurt; the one Sauron just gave him. Compared to that, this tumble-in with the large pillar seemed like nothing.

Opening his eyes, the ebony black-scaled dragon caught sight of the Maia he loathed standing closer to him, albeit a mere ten feet away.

"You do not call me by that name! You do not _ever_ call me by that name!" Sauron roared with a passionate rage as he slammed the spiked head of his mace onto the extremely hard ground, cracking it a bit. "Of all the names I've donned, damned dragon, that one just had to come out of your shitty mouth!"

Ancalagon glared at the Maia as his voice lowered to a menacing almost-whisper. "Never, _ever_, utter that fucking name again." And with that, Sauron spun around, his black cape-like cloak fumbled a bit against his black elegantly designed armour.

Ancalagon gave out a low growl as the Maia left the room. He heard Morgoth releasing an amused yet unimpressed 'tch.'

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I'm sitting at the mouth of the cave I found within twenty minutes of searching. I, however, will not be describing it as of yet; for I am tired.

And hungry.

My stomach growls as I watch the rather beautiful dusk skies. The oranges, yellows, purples and darker blues. . .

I then see a lone grey pigeon, perched on a low rock, twenty feet from myself.

My stomach growls some more. I am mentally whining.

Pigeon. Meat. Food.

What? I have not realized, but I am now only thirty centimetres from the bird. Wow, what hunger can do to you. . .

I don't want to eat it; albeit at the same time, I want to devour it so very badly.

My elongated tongue glides along my sharp teeth. And the next thing I know, the bird is dead and within my jaws. I spit it out immediately.

My carnal desire. . .

Ah, screw that!

My gaze is focused onto the grey bird, and the teeth marks I left in the small body. That brief taste was kind of weird. But I also enjoyed it.

Huh.

I feel something within my throat – in which I soon gather that it is a stray feather from the pigeon. I cough, and a momentary fire releases from my mouth; in which startles me and I back away about five steps.

Cool. I can breathe fire.

Although I can't control it. I know that I am unable to control it. Not cool.

I note the baked and sudden featherless condition of the pigeon. I smirk in delight and amusement.

And so I feast on it as the sun disappears and the skies turn a navy blue, filled with bright and shining stars.

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

*** After Note II – So I generally answer reviews via PM; however, I'll be responding to those who I can't PM here~ :3 ***

**Guest:** Thank you so much~! :D

**AWESOME:** Thank you for your _awesome_ words~ ;D

**Guest:** Thanks~! Here's the next chapter~ =)

**Guest:** Thanks very much~ Here's more; and I hope you like~ :)

**Guest:** Thank you; I'm glad you like it~! xx =D

*** After Note III – Just curious, what do you think of my portrayal of Tolkien's Ancalagon the Black~? I'm trying to aim for the calm, broad-minded, dangerous and commanding leader, accompanied with a caring and father-like side, (whom he hides from everyone else)~ ( ._.) ***

*** After Note IV – Yeah, I just pretty much wanted to sum up Ancalagon's and Sauron's relationship with each other in one scene, since the Maia will also be a major character in this story . . . And so we have a pissed off Sauron . . . With anger issues despite his usual calm, self-controlled and deceptive demeanor~ (= w =) ***

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	3. Bonding In Secret

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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***

***** Note III – Reminder: Throughout the story, I'll be switching through two different perspectives: First person present tense and third person past tense~ The first person will always be in Felicity's point of view~ (._. ) *****

*** Note IV – Just for clarification, this fanfic **begins in First Age 540** – The War of Wrath initiates in First Age 545 and ends in First Age 587~ O.O ***

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**~ 002 – Bonding In Secret ~**

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"Dance above the surface of the world. Let your thoughts lift you into creativity that is not hampered by opinion."

~ Red Haircrow

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A hiss of stinging pain escapes my mouth as burning sunlight enters my vision. Ah, go away. . .

I groggily stand and move away from the direct sunlight, and plop right down. Ahhhh, much better! The skies are almost all blue – there is a fading orange – and the sun is high, but is half-behind a much taller mountain yonder the horizon.

I do not bother thinking that what happened yesterday was a dream. It's not; I won't be ignorant. I let my mind wonder to my mother and best friend, Vanessa; wondering how they are taking my death and what-have-you. I miss them already . . . I shake my head immediately.

At the mouth of the cave, I yawn and stand up again. My stomach growls soon after. Well, I can't stay here forever! And without any ado, I leave my temporary stone-like sleeping quarters.

My stomach growls incessantly as I wonder the mountain.

I want cake. And pizza. Sushi is beautiful to have, too. And McDonalds' burgers. And Tim Hortons' donuts. AND PASTA!

The growling becomes louder.

Food. Meat. I have this insane craving for anything that which is meat.

Foooooooooood . . . I'm so hungry that I can eat a horse. . .

As if on cue, a roasted horse drops in front of me, and I let out a scream of shock.

"Little one, I thought I told you to stay in that cave until my arrival," A deep and smooth voice laughs.

"I was trying to search for food! Is this for me?" I peer up at the handsome, colossal ebony-black dragon that is Ancalagon, who gave a nod of his head. He made a landing along the mountain plains, settling in a comfortable lounging position. I notice that he favored both of his left limbs slightly; and there is a long and wide fading scar, trailing from his upper chest to his mid-stomach.

I hungrily withdraw the meat off of the horse. I can't believe that I am eating a horse. Ah well. Despite it not really having any seasoning, it tastes quite good. I peer up at the male dragon again. "Did something happen?"

He gazes at me without emotion. "Specifics, if you will."

"I mean, you were kind of limping a few minutes ago . . . And that scar; I don't remember seeing that yesterday."

Ancalagon shakes his elegantly horned head. "'Tis nothing of importance. Just a pathetic excuse for an argument."

"With who?"

He looks at me with seeming annoyance and he sighs in irritation – I don't know if it's due to the memory, or if it's aimed at my probing. I saunter and sit by his forefeet. "With who?"

"Sauron."

I gasp a little. He brings his head down to rest along his forearms. "Do not be so shocked, little one. We were never fond of one another."

Well that's . . . Something new . . . I ponder and say nothing more on the matter, and his ruby red eyes seem to relax a little at that. I speak up again. "Where are we? I know that we are in Beleriand, but where exactly?"

"West Beleriand," he replies instantly, and a flash of puzzlement lights his eyes as he stares into mine. "We are in the lower Ered Wethrin, or 'Shadow Mountains,' which is in the region of Hithlum."

I am utterly confused. I know where West Beleriand is, although I have no idea where this specific location is. I never really read over Tolkien's maps. . .

"You are still unsure?" He seems a little bewildered at that fact; mind him, I've not yet told him of my other world origins. He lifts his head up a little and extends his right forefoot to me, silently asking for my permission. Trusting this dragon, I step into the large hand. Covering my top self slightly with his left forehand, he leaps into the sky.

I squeal in delight at this sudden display of flight. I'm flying! Well, kind of . . . Anyways, Ancalagon stops and lands at the top of the mountain, still keeping his clawed hands around me. Peaking at the sceneries, I gap in awe. Honestly, I cannot wait to fly by myself.

"To our right is the higher Ered Wethrin," His voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I examine the landscapes to get myself better acquainted with my surroundings. He continues, turning a little to the right. "Angband is far off over there. That is all you need to know about it." I see darker, black-like mountains across a vast desert sea. Morgoth's stronghold is _many_ miles away, and I sigh in relief as I now know that I am far away from danger. For now, anyways . . . I shudder at that thought.

Ancalagan turns behind us to face a vast area; in which the majority of it is green with a few rivers and lakes here and there in the distance. "This is the region of Hithlum; and this specific area is Mithrim." Large mountainous walls trail around most of the circumference of the region. There is a small – albeit still quite spacious – area in which no mountains are present.

"And this region neighboring us," he continues as he turns to our left, "is Taur-Nu-Fuin, or Dorthonion." All I see are humongous mountains in that region. There's probably more than those mountains, but I cannot see anything past them. "The secret elven city of Gondolin used to be there."

Ahhhh, no wonder . . . Those elves sure built deep! I digress . . .

I cock my head to the side. "Used too? It's gone now? Wait, what year is this?"

"Five hundred and forty," Ancalagon answers rather unemotionally. "Gondolin was destroyed thirty years ago."

Oh. Strangely; despite only reading _The Fall of Gondolin_ once in my previous life, I feel a strong wave of melancholy for the elves who used to live there. And the year . . . It's only five years before the War of Wrath! I shake my thoughts away from the future war; however, my mind continues to linger on Gondolin.

"Did you participate in Gondolin's fall?" I ask, not remembering if the text said that he did or did not.

His scaly fingers around my body become a little tense, but relaxed soon after. "I was originally supposed to." Ancalagon drops and swoops down, landing lower on the mountain range where we occupied previously.

"You didn't?" He releases his hold on me, and I back up on the hard mountainous surface to make way for the dragon to sit comfortably.

The black dragon responds, red eyes seeming to be reminiscent. "I was to be the second-in-command of that siege, and the commander for the dragon force. I refused and chose a different dragon to take my place. Morgoth found out about that the day after the army left Angband; and he punished me severely, making sure that my only defiant action against him was the final one. I have spent many a year on fulfilling my bloodlust, and one day I suddenly became bitter towards the one I serve. I was tired and disgusted with everything we were doing – and I was extremely appalled with myself for my past actions."

As he talked, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. And he is completely honest, too! I feel bad for him. Not out of pity; but as an understanding. This dragon has a mind of his own, at least a stronger one with which he can resist Morgoth's command with. I suddenly feel more of what he is feeling; and I sense a wave of deep and intense emotion coming from this dragon. I open my mouth to speak, only to have him chuckle wistfully. "Ah, I talk too much. Forgive me for burdening you with such information, little one. What are you called? I should have asked this earlier."

I gap at him for two seconds before closing my mouth. Why did you apologize; you have no reason too! Pushing the thought to the side, I answer him. "My name is Felicity."

He lowers his head towards myself and regards me curiously. "An interesting name. It sounds almost human than dragon-like. What does it mean?"

I resist the urge to nervously twitch when he mentioned 'human.' "I was told that it meant 'happiness.' My parents named me it because apparently they were ecstatic about my birth."

"As many are. I think this name suits you."

"How so?"

"I never had parents due to being created. And I have always had this sense of joy mingled with jealously when I observed some of my dragons caring for their little ones. I know it's only been two days, but taking care of you brought me a certain . . . happiness."

I smile inwardly at his confession. "You know, I . . . Oh, how do I say this? I rather . . . Enjoy the attention's you've been giving me. I'd never would have thought that Ancalagon the Black had this side to him; after reading about your supremacy and dangerousness."

Ancalagon unexpectedly snapped his face fully in my direction, bringing his head closer to mine. Feeling his breathing upon my face, he asks, "'Reading' about me, you say?"

I gulp and my silvery eyes widen a little bit at my idiotic screw-up. "Um, I –"

"Please show me some honesty. I trust you and you seemed to have trusted me earlier – I have not even revealed you to my superior."

His voice is gentle but commanding. Nervously, and without really thinking, I explain that I am from another world, 'Earth.' I tell him that I was a seventeen-year-old human, and that I woke up here as a dragoness after being killed in that world. I briefly mention that this world is written within books in my world, and that I've read some of the tales – including writings concerning Ancalagon.

He moves his head away from me, albeit his ruby eyes still fixated on mine. It is silent. And I am stupid.

"That is why you have a human name and lingering scent. . ." The black dragon finally says something, although more to himself. He then proceeds to mumble things incoherent to me. I think he is debating with himself.

Will he believe me? I don't think so . . . But there is a possibility. I mean, he is the Lord of Dragons, and so he would have been aware of every single dragon in existence. Which means that he would have known if I am a creation of Morgoth, or if I am the offspring of two of his creations. Also, the Valar are out of the question considering that they use those giant eagles; and would never create a dragon.

"You do not have any essence of Morgoth within you. And no other being creates dragons," Ancalagon finally speaks up after, literally, ten minutes. If I was still a human, I would be anxiously sweating a waterfall by now.

I look at him anxiously. "Do you believe me? I don't expect you to right away; but I swear upon my head that it is the truth."

His eyes hold mine in a hypnotic gaze.

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Ancalagon the Black came to visit me almost every day for the past two weeks. I felt lonely when he did not come; however, I was in complete joy when he did! I don't know why I am as ecstatic as I am. I mean, I knew that I'd be happy, but not this joyful. . .

He believes me, too. It is kind of strange, for him, anyway. He was a little hesitant in doing so, but he did! I'm thankful for that; the reasons for doing so are endless. So I guess he had no choice in the matter.

He is assisting me in learning how to fly. Honestly, my progress is slow.

Super slow. I am so disappointed in myself.

I keep flapping and flapping, and then I tire myself out. My muscles seriously need to get used to this.

Ancalagon is patient, but then he sighs in mock irritation and then he proceeds to roll those lovely eyes of his.

One time I actually managed to lift myself off of the ground! It was only by thirty centimetres, though, and it only lasted twenty seconds.

Damn it.

And the ebony black dragon had the cheek to laugh at me.

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Sauron was suspicious and he wondered where Ancalagon disappeared off too for these past two weeks.

Morgoth, in all honesty, did not give out any form of damn. At least, so long as the ebony black dragon will not defy him. He has not; and so the ex-Vala simply ordered the Maia to simply ignore the dragon.

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Sauron eventually paid no heed to Ancalagon's antics. After all, they detested each other, so why should he bother in the first place?

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However he cannot help but feel that lingering suspicion. . .

. . . Especially when one day, he caught Ancalagon sitting atop one of the peaks at the Iron Mountains that overlooked Angband, _happily purring_.

That dragon never purred.

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

*** After Note II – Some emotional Ancalagon~ No really, I have no idea why I wrote what I wrote. (._. ) Don't worry, I'm not going to butcher his personality completely – I'll be writing more of his fierce and dangerous side to his personality for the next chapter~ =3 Good thing this is an AU~ ;) ***

**Guest:** Thank you~! :D Here's the next chapter~

**Malakai10:** Thank you so much~! I'm glad you like it~:D I know, I wish so too . . . O.O

**Once:** Thank you so much; I'm glad you love it~! :D Yeah, I've never read one either, hence me writing one. xDDD LE GASP~! I give you the highest of fives, fellow dragon lover and dragonologist~! Thank you again and have a good day~! =D (P.S., I know; I hate it when phones do that, too . . . o.o)

**Rayne:** Thanks so much~! :D Hope you liked this one~ :3

**Guest:** Thank you for your awesome review~! =D

_*** After Note III – So apparently I received some rather rude five-year-old-like reviews; and so let me clarify a few things, to this specific reviewer: Don't read and troll. I could care less about unnecessary complaints. __**I welcome concerns and justified criticisms, but not pathetic behaviour such as that of resembling downright complaining.**__ Also; I know that there are MANY "person/people-fall-into-Middle-Earth" stories. I love and enjoy them. If my author's note was read PROPERLY, you would have seen that I wrote that I've never seen one in which said person __**becomes a DRAGON**__. __**A FREAKING DRAGON **__. . . Read properly. It's sad, in a way, to have to spell it out in such an elementary-like way. In addition, dear drama queen, I mentioned twice in the story that the main modern world setting is Toronto. I also mentioned once that the country is Canada; and does NOT take place in the UK as you have assumed. Please do not make a fool out of yourself; and please act your age. I have no patience for idiots holding uncontrollable tantrums. ~ Thank you ~ :D P.S., This is not a self-insert. ***_

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	4. The Asshole And The Gentleman

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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***

*** Note III – I realize that when it comes to dragons, there isn't really a "for sure" opinion as to, for example; what their strengths and weaknesses are, or what age they are considered adults. I notice that various authors who include dragons in their works – or who write books about dragons – all have something different about said creatures. (Even though some facts may be the same or similar, many are different from each other.) Therefore; with this fanfiction, I'll be incorporating various views, including Tolkien's, as well as _mainly taking my own creative licensing_~ =3 ***

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**~ 003 – The Asshole And The Gentleman ~**

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"What doesn't kill you comes back with something stronger to finish the job."

~ oaklungs, DeviantART

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… _One Month and Two Weeks Later_ …

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"Corulagon."

"What?"

Jura rolled his light blue eyes and sighed in exasperation at his companion's instant, curt response. _Will he ever be polite for once_?_ Really, the little Smaug has a better temper than this_! _And he is a handful_! They currently flew along the open region of Anfauglith, or Ard-Galen; nearing the edge of the golden brown desert and into the lush greenery. The mountains of Dorthonion stood distantly tall within their sights.

Deadpanning at the hot-tempered dragon, Jura continued. "Are we actually executing Sauron's orders? And why are you in _such_ a terrible mood?"

"Because Smaug won't cease playing with my tail!" Corulagon snapped, his eye twitching vaguely. "Really: I am trying to take a lovely nap, when lo and behold! The little dragonling bites my tail! Specifically the really sensitive area!"

The chocolate brown-scaled dragon couldn't help but laugh. He was very amused. "Oh, how cute!"

Corulagon scowled and glared his yellow-golden orbs towards his companion; who, in turn, continued to laugh at the thought of the scene, and his eyes filled with mirth. The pale green-scaled dragon looked away and took a deep breath, preventing himself from succumbing to his irritation. He then spoke up. "What was your first question?"

Jura calmed himself, albeit letting loose one last snicker. "Ehhh . . . Sauron. What he told us to do. Are we _actually_ doing this?"

"Well, we are on our way now. Why ever not?" Corulagon replied, accompanied with a hint of incredulousness.

"Because Ancalagon is our lord dragon! That Maia has no right."

"Ancalagon may be of our kind; however, the Maia does have a right if he suspects treason."

Jura sighed. "By having us follow our lord's movements in secrecy . . . ? Sauron may be who he is; but he is childish in his endeavour to find fault in our lord, presenting an excuse to personally kill him."

_Try telling him that yourself, _Corulagon thought distastefully. He stayed silent, although releasing a low growl. The chocolate brown dragon let his large eyes linger onto his companion silently for an extra minute, before slowly turning his head and looking away. Despite knowing Corulagon since they were both baby dragons, Jura found it hard, at times, to figure out what the other was thinking. His companion was rather predictable, yet simultaneously unpredictable.

The duo made a landing along the inner sides of Taur-Nu-Fuin's mountains, catching their breath from some lengthy, non-stop flying. They let their eyes wonder, and Jura barely flinched at the sight of the once beautiful and magnificent city that was brought down to ruin in one night. The lovely white stoned and marbled houses, towers and other larger structures were in a mass graveyard of pieces – and were no longer a pure white with which reflected sunlight. They were darkened and charred; and Corulagon could swear that he caught sight of a worn and scratched insignia – looking silvery-blue accompanied with an almost-faded symbol of a slender and swirly fountain – hidden in between some rubble.

Jura's gaze then focused on something closer to him; which happened to be rows and rows of graves. He speedily scanned the graves for some reason, possibly curious, over the names of the deceased elves. His light blue eyes stopped, and lingered onto one of the larger ones. He caught the name, "Laurëfindel" in Tengwar, and he cocked his head to the side at why this name seemed so familiar to him.

For a moment, the chocolate brown dragon flashbacked to his participation in Gondolin's fall. . .

_He remembered standing erect along the upper inner side of the mountains, nearby one of the mountain passes. Jura witnessed a one-on-one battle between one of his fellow Valaraukar and a golden-haired elf, with curious interest. His gaze was trained on the young ellon who fought valiantly; and to his surprise, Jura silently hoped that the elf would prove to be victorious._

_What happened next went so fast, and yet simultaneously, the moment felt slow. _

_Jura's light blue orbs gleamed with excitement as the fiery Balrog received a sword through the chest, and the footing slipped over the edge of a cliff. As the creature fell, the handsome golden-haired ellon turned; and the dragon's eyes widened a bit, for his eyes were met with the sapphire-like ones from said elf._

_The elf-lord's eyes shined in the flamed night, as though they were sapphires themselves; and they stared into Jura's for three seconds. Said dragon felt an extreme wave of emotion through his chest; and he saw the intensity of the ellon's grief, fear, immense anger – and even a tinge of relief._

_He felt a strange sense of panic as the Valarauka grabbed the elf's long golden locks, pulling him down the cliff towards a guaranteed death_. . .

A gust of wind returned Jura out of his reminisced reverie. Did this grave belong to that elf? Was that elf, 'Laurëfindel?'

The gusts of wind suddenly became cold to Jura. He vaguely shook his head. The winds and the atmosphere turned into haunting ones.

A tingle along his back.

A gooey chill slowly cascaded down his spine.

It felt colder to him. The cries of the wind suddenly became the cries of the elves.

Jura tightly shut his eyes, and he shifted his feet uncomfortably. _Stop it_. . .

It felt ice-cold; then it felt as hot, molten lava; and then both temperatures came into play. He smelt iron and blood and things burning – flesh, cloth, homes, greenery, and trees. _Stop it_. . .

Ragged breathing.

He discerned the haunting, scared screams growing louder; the battle cries of the elven warriors filled with wrath; and, the loud sobbing of the elflings. _Stop it_. . .

Was he morphing into something in which Ancalagon slowly was?

For many a year, he pleasurably killed, fulfilling his bloodlust; and he would comply with every order without hesitation. And then on a certain day – how randomly that may seem – during a certain hour, a certain second; the realization suddenly sinks in. And the guilt.

And the desire for freedom. What was freedom? Away from _his_ control, that was for sure.

_Stop it _. . ._ I cannot think this way_. . .

Jura saw a transparent golden-haired ellon. Said ellon's gaze bore deep into the dragon's orbs – the gaze filled with such sadness, lividness and distress; and possibly with a hint of mocking. The elf-lord opened his mouth. . .

"STOP IT!"

The pale green dragon almost jumped, and he widened his eyes in shock as Jura roared and slammed his spiked tail against the mountainside. His tail sliced through some rock, and that rubble fell as nearby birds chirped in panic and flew away.

Corulagon wanted to inquire his friend and companion's sudden horror; although as a dragon himself, he knew better than to further the other's anxiety and possible anger. Instead, the yellow-golden-eyed dragon moved along the mountain wall, which was above the area on which Jura stood. Corulagon gently nudged the latter's upper right shoulder. "Shall we move on?"

After releasing a shaky breath, Jura turned his head towards the other. "Yes. In fact, we shall never, ever, fly by this damned place."

A little bit confused (although not really displaying it), Corulagon gave a nod of his head. "Understandable."

They both leaped into the darkening skies, their destination being the lower Ered Wethrin. Jura's mind and spirit felt heavy from that . . . Obscure moment; and so he wanted to pleasure himself in the glories of sleep as soon as they reached the Shadow Mountains.

Corulagon agreed. The skies were darkening after every passing minute, anyway. They could continue their task on the morrow.

And while flying, Jura swore to never again look at someone directly into their eyes right before they died.

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It is a new day, and I've been awake for the past hour and a half. Ancalagon left about twenty or thirty minutes ago (I suck at keeping track of time) to hunt for food.

I wanted to join him – I mean, my flying improved – however, he advised against it.

He mentioned something along the lines of not wanting to put me in danger . . . And the risk of having a run-in with another dragon or others on his side.

Man, he could behave like such an overprotective father at times!

Not that I consider him as a father, but . . . Uh . . . Do I . . . No . . . Uh . . . He – he behaves like one! Yeah, that's it and all! I like him, too. Not in the romantic sense, obviously; but, I really do.

I don't know what I am thinking. I'm getting emotional.

I want food. Specifically more meat.

Hurry up, Dad – I mean, male guardian who happens to behave like a father, with which I enjoy said guardian's attentions.

A sigh escapes my lips. I wish I was an adult. I was in utmost shock when Ancalagon told me that dragons become adults when they are two hundred years old. I was very, _very_ surprised.

That was two weeks ago, and I am still in shock! I have to wait such a long time, which is one hundred and eighty-three years from now. Considering the fact that I may die before then, I find this aging quite frustrating. Damn it!

Although, he did mention that something interesting happens when a dragon turns to be one hundred years of age. He wouldn't say what that specifically was, though. He just . . . Cheekily laughed and said that I should patiently wait 'til then.

Patient my ass.

My musing are interrupted as I suddenly hear the beats of two sets of large wings. I scuttle around the grey-brown mountain plateau and quickly find some larger rocks to hide myself between; for I realize that neither of these dragons are Ancalagon.

Delicately peeking through the small gaps, I see two dragons land within the area. They are the same ones from a month and a half ago!

They seem to be suspiciously sniffing the air before the chocolate brown dragons speaks up. "Ancalagon was here."

Ehhhh? Why are they searching for him?

The pale green dragon (with whom I forgot his name – I think it started with 'Coru') then continues: "I gather the scent of a young dragoness. Come to think of it, was not this area the same one from the previous time we made a landing here?"

The brown dragon immediately snaps his head towards Coru, (yes, I am going to call him that, for now) and agrees with him. I see them wander the mountainous plateau in full alert; and I almost panic as the darker of the two dragons makes his way over here.

I hear him step over my hiding spot, but I don't hear him continue his movements. I can see his chocolate brown tail pacing from side to side, slowly dragging some dust, tiny rocks, and even tinier pebbles across the hard surface. Gazing up and past his hind legs and tail, I spy Coru, all of a sudden, turning his head towards my direction.

He is boring his yellow-golden eyes intently into mine, and – wait.

Oh shit.

"Jura! Underneath you."

Well, fuck. I'm gonna die soon.

I am too much in shock to register the claws grabbing at my tail. I am then thrown out of my spot, and my body slams into some taller rocks. Oww . . . That hurt. I manage to stand up on some slightly shaking feet, only to find the two dragons staring directly at me.

"Oh, Corulagon! She is not only young, but tiny as well!"

I am not tiny; only the size of a damn horse! I mentally sigh. I guess I am tiny when compared to their sizes.

Corulagon (thank you, dragon whom I gather as 'Jura,' for reminding me of his name) stalks closer to me and scowls. "She is suspicious. I have never seen her before."

Jura raises his left forehand in a gesture to stop the other from coming closer to me. "She is only a child! There is no harm in that, so please stop behaving as you currently are."

The pale green dragon growls, causing me to jump back a bit. "I can't. I do not like this. Sauron wanted knowledge of Lord Ancalagon's suspicious antics, and this is possibly it. His scent is even strong within the area!"

I don't like where this is going. . .

Jura rose his voice. "Caring for a young dragoness is perfectly harmless, you –"

"SHE IS NOT ONE OF US!"

I yelp at his sudden roar, and my limbs are shaking. Discreetly searching my surroundings, I try to plan some form or means of escape.

The hot-tempered dragon continues his murderous glare towards myself. "Who are you to Ancalagon the Black?!"

In all honesty, I am too scared to say anything. That asshole. . .

"ANSWER, WHELP!"

"Corulagon, you shouldn't allow for your anger to cloud your judgement!" Jura hurriedly says whilst lightly flicking his tail against the lighter dragon's underbelly.

Said lighter-scaled dragon seemed to ignore his companion's words, for he began to advance upon me.

I run. I try too, anyways. My shaky legs have me trip over myself; but I continue through labyrinths of rock, sharper rock, and opened spaces. The growling and smashing of rocks only fuel my impulse to run faster.

From the distance, I can hear Jura's attempts at calming my pursuer down; albeit to no avail.

I hop onto some rocks; and, spreading my wings, I attempt to fly. As that happened, Corulagon's jaws narrowly miss my tail – I can hear that painful-sounding chomp in such a detailed fashion. While struggling to fly, I feel his tail whip my body so suddenly, so painfully; that I speedily descend onto one of the mountain's lower opened spaces.

I scream; and in my mind, I call for Ancalagon.

I am in immense pain as I hit the hardened stone. Tears cascade down my lavender-scaled cheeks. It hurts so much; I don't want to die!

Corulagon is descending from the higher cliff above; and I stand up, only to tumble right back onto the side I had landed on.

And then the mountain's floors and walls rattle in a brief tremor-like fashion at the powerful sound of a roar. Corulagon's eyes widen in panic as a large flash of black slammed into him, knocking him painfully against the hardened walls.

I close my eyes and open them again; and I stand up with my body aching, deciding to sit in order to spare my wobbly legs.

Corulagon lied completely flat on his back, his large wings squished below him and extended along the plains. Ancalagon growls as he holds the other in place below him. The ebony black dragon's front right claw is situated across Corulagon's upper neck, right below his jawbones.

It is Ancalagon who speaks – or rather, demands – first: "Who sent you?!"

Corulagon's in shock. Possibly in fear, too. I would be, if I were him. He stutters a bit before regaining some lost composure. "My Lord Ancalagon; how you shocked me! We – we were –"

"WHO SENT YOU?!" Ancalagon roars again, and I must admit, I am extremely glad that I am not on the receiving end of that treatment. His grip tightens around my attacker's neck. . .

"Sauron sent us."

All of our eyes trail to Jura, who lands elegantly beside me. He folds his chocolate brown wings against his back. "We couldn't reject the order; we had to comply with it."

Ancalagon's eyes soften a bit; understanding them and the fact that rejecting Sauron if you're of a lower rank will grant you a wide arrange of punishments, or even death. But that was only for but a moment. His lovely ruby-red eyes narrow. "Step away from her."

Jura prepares to move, although ends up staying where he is. "I assure you, my lord, that whereas his intentions were violent, mine were not. I mean the young one no harm –"

"STEP AWAY FROM HER!"

That final roar gave Jura the panicky want to get out of here – I can see that much from within his light blue eyes. As the chocolate brown dragon saunters away from me; and closer to Corulagon and my da – _guardian_, Ancalagon releases his grasp onto the pale green dragon. He walks backwards and closer to my sitting, vaguely shaking body.

Jura gently nudges Corulagon's head, and the latter rolls onto his belly. He situates his feet below himself and props himself up on his feet.

Ancalagon, now shielding me entirely from their eyes, speaks yet again. His voice is quite, and yet dangerously commanding. "You two will not mention anything to _anyone_ about this incident. And no one is to know about this little one."

I cannot see anything due to the Lord of Dragons obstructing my view, albeit I can hear Jura's smooth voice releasing a calm, yet somewhat shaking, "Understood."

A minute later, Corulagon's deeper voice rattles with a, "As you wish."

I then see them fly up and over the mountains, and away from my silvery eyes. Ancalagon turns to me, lowers his head closer to mine, and says, "Oh, Felicity, I am sorry! This would not have happened if I had brought you with me."

"You've no need to apologize," I spoke up rather shakily. "We didn't know this would've happened! Don't blame yourself."

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then sighs. He's probably at a loss for words; although, I may have thought too soon as he affectionately nuzzles my head. "No matter what you say, I am still sorry for leaving you."

I must confess, I rather love his nuzzling. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling; and I lean into his touch.

Suffice to say that this fiasco's already sparking a higher level of overprotectiveness from the great Ancalagon.

Ah, well. As long as he doesn't chain me into the deepest and safest of caves . . . Although I do not think that it'll go that far.

Hopefully.

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

**Guest:** Thank you; I'm glad you love it~! =D Hope you enjoyed this chapter~ \(^-^)/ LE GASP~! You need to get more familiar with the series; it's too awesome for words~ :D

**Amy:** Thank you~! =D Hope you liked this chapter~ =)

**The Random Guest**: :D Whoa . . . I'm honoured by your words~ I'm glad you love it and THANK YOU SO MUCH~! \(*-*)/ I hope you continue to enjoy this story; and have an awesome day~ :D (P.S., I'll apologize in advance for the fact that I won't be able to publish every day or every two days due to many factors; but, I'm aiming for a chapter per week – or every two weeks depending on my schedule.) Adios~!

**Guest:** Thanks~! :D Here's the next one~ :3

**Cooper:** Thank you for your words of encouragement; and thank you for liking my story~! =D Rest assured, Smaug will come soon~ :3

*** After Note II – I've noticed that many of you lovelies want to see Smaug soon. He'll be making his young dragonling appearance either in the next chapter; or if not, then the chapter after that one~ \(^-^)/ ***

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	5. The Secondary Form

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**Again, please ignore this if you have already read this chapter: This is another re-upload of this chapter (most likely the last one as well, if Fanfiction behaves nicely). Apparently when I re-uploaded this about three times yesterday, it didn't . . . display properly – Some people were able to see this chapter and others weren't. So this is just the final re-upload; hopefully Fanfiction won't screw up. (O-O)**

*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***

*** Note III – This chapter felt a little weird to write . . . I don't know why, it just did . . . Ah well~ Oh! And do any of you remember in the first scene of the first chapter; that I wrote something along the lines of "dragons who took to their secondary forms as elves?" Well, you'll find out, here~ OwO ***

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**~ 004 – The Secondary Form ~**

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"Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks."

~ Samuel Johnson, _The Idler; Poems_

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… _One Week Later_ …

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"Ancala –!"

"No!"

"Plea –?"

"I forbid it!"

So, Ancalagon is to go hunt for food; and being the protective dragon that he is, he is making me join him. Now, I don't mind, at all. I want to join him and witness more of this world.

However; being the _over_protective father-figure that he is, he wants me out of harm's way and not fly using my own wings, but flying as in, 'he flies and I hitch a ride on his head.'

Seriously, I cannot improve my flying and wing stamina if he won't allow me to perform said action! And so, I am trying to persuade him, yet it seems as though he won't have any of it. . .

"An –!"

"Why will you not listen to me!?"

"But –"

"No!"

"DAD!"

"FELICITY!" The colossal ebony-black dragon ends our one-on-one shouting contest with the final irritated shout of my name. He then does a double-take, cocks his head to the left side, and he stares into my eyes. "Did you just refer to me as your father?"

My eyes widen and I refrain from largely gaping. I know that I am blushing, for my cheeks feel really warm. Thank you, scales, for hiding that blush. I did not even realize that I called him, 'dad!' Well, he does behave like one towards myself; but for me to call – well shout – him that to his face is . . . Well . . . I don't even know. . .

. . . Or maybe I do. Actually, in a way, I do think of him as a father. . .

Vigorously shaking my head, I respond: "Nope, I didn't! Not at all!" I probably don't even sound convincing. "Of course I didn't; I mean, we're not even related! So –"

His comfortable nuzzling against my head silences my voice before he speaks. "You know . . . You _can_ call me your father, I you want to . . . It had actually brought me joy when you did so earlier. . ."

I feel insanely happy as he tells me that.

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Jura found Ancalagon the Black sitting tall and regal along a black-brown cliff of the Iron Mountains, overlooking the scorching hot and fiery Thangorodrim.

He approached the Lord of Dragons, and they began a small conversation. The chocolate brown dragon then confessed to the other of his little internal incident about a week and few days ago, regarding the remains of Gondolin and his realisation and extreme guilt. And his desire for freedom.

Ancalagon listened very intently. He listened because he knew all too well. He understood this younger dragon perfectly. Jura was going through the same internal struggles as he did before Gondolin's fall – and even now, as well. Jura, like himself, was developing a freer mind; one that will strive to fully break free from Morgoth's control. A deep wave of trust flowed between the two of them.

And then Jura apologized on Corulagon's behalf, in regards to that day where the two of them found Felicity. The black dragon pardoned him, and he told him of Felicity's true origins – additionally, he mentioned to not repeat this conversation to anyone.

Jura, continuously, was curious about that young dragoness. After a moment, the Lord of Dragons commanded the other to follow him to the lower Shadow Mountains. There, he introduced Felicity and Jura, and they acquainted with each other quite splendidly.

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"Lord Ancalagon, have you told her yet?" Jura's deep and smooth voice echoes vaguely within the open confines of a sandy brown and slight greyish mountain plateau. He and Corulagon are lounging beside each other onto their underbellies with their forefeet extending outwards before them.

They relax a few feet away from Ancalagon and I, in which we also lounge in the same positions. I am, however, metres below the black dragon's head, as I am situated in between his forefeet rather protectively. Although, I must confess: He is providing some beautiful shade for myself.

"Tell her what, exactly?" Ancalagon inquires neutrally, without any hint of emotion.

"What happens when a dragon turns to be one hundred years of age?"

The Lord of Dragons hums lowly. And then he spoke with cheekiness evident in his tone, yet not before releasing a quite snicker. "Ah, I told her to wait and see 'til she actually reaches that age."

"I'm only seventeen; I cannot wait that long!" I complain whilst my right eye twitches.

Corulagon, subtly, rolls his eyes (that asshole) and Jura gives off a light chuckle before speaking. "Not to mention that she is bound to notice sooner than later. . ."

Ancalagon grumbles light-heartedly. "Ahh, fine," he mumbles as he nuzzles the top and back of my head affectionately. He raises his head after a minute, albeit I can still feel his warm breathing upon myself. "Corulagon, will you do the honours?"

At first glance, the pale green dragon seems irritated; and yet, as I peer into his yellow-golden eyes, they held amusement and even a bit of mocking. He stands to his clawed feet, and I stare in bewilderment as this dragon shrinks and morphs. My eyes are completely glued to his form, and I think my mouth is wide open; I don't know, I can't even feel my mouth muscles . . . I think my ears pick up Jura laughing a bit. . .

In place of Corulagon the dragon, I see Corulagon the six-foot and five inches tall Vanyarin elf. His hair is straight and beautifully golden, ending along his bare waist; and his eyes had changed into a pale green (I guess it would have been weird to lay eyes on an elf with natural green hair. . .) He is deliciously shirtless (I try to ignore that fact) and the lower third of his black breeches are tucked into his black boots, which came just below his knees.

All the while he is looking at me in merriment, accompanied with a sassy smirk playing on the lips of his face. Oh my goodness, he is beautiful . . . But no less assholic; that I know for sure. Nevertheless, that morphing thing is awesome.

He loosely crosses his toned arms along his upper abdomen before Jura proceeds to scold him: "Corulagon, where is your decency?! You are in the presence of a young dragoness, you –!"

"Yes, well, she can deal with my 'so-called' immodesty," the dragon-turned-ellon waves off his companion in a bored yet merry fashion. The chocolate brown dragon scowls, and mumbles something about his friend's uncouth and ungentlemanly behaviour.

Blinking, unfreezing my mouth, and finally finding my voice, I speak up. "So . . . Umm . . . Explain, please?"

"A dragon is considered a 'full' adult by the time that they are two hundred years old," Ancalagon begins. I train my eyes towards the ruby red-eyed dragon as Corulagon plops onto the solid, kind-of dusty plateau with his legs crossed. The Lord of Dragons continues. "At one hundred years of age, a dragon is considered a 'baby' adult, so to speak."

"Which simply means that one would resemble an adult, yet they will not be fully developed. This includes developments such as hardened scales, although not invincibly hardened yet; or having a large size, yet not entirely one's eventual colossal size," Jura contributes, and then asks: "Are you with us so far?"

I nod, shocked yet very intrigued. "I am!"

"Are you sure – OW!"

Jura silences Corulagon's would-be sardonic comment with a flick of his tail against the latter's bare back. "If you have nothing to contribute aside from sarcasm, than please stay silent."

The ellonized dragon simply scowls and sticks his tongue out at the light blue-eyed dragon before flicking his head away as though he was a diva. Wow . . . His hair is flipping quite sassily as well. . .

Ancalagon continues after an amused snigger comes out of his mouth. "Yes, and so the major thing that happens when a dragon turns one hundred years of age is the secondary form. Not all dragons choose their form at this age; however, it is at one hundred when the body is ready to undergo such a form."

I nod my head again to display my intent listening, and my silvery eyes sparkle. I feel as though I'm gazing at wondrous cakes. . .

"So, you can choose any form?" I clarify, cocking my head to the side.

Jura's voice rings out. "Yes –"

"Although, you should choose wisely," Corulagon smoothly interrupts. "Because once you've chosen, you're stuck with it for all of eternity."

"In addition – more like a side note, really," Jura mentions, "the majority of dragons tend to select the forms of elves, humans, horses, or birds. Again, it is entirely your decision; those are simply the more common choices."

"That is very fascinating . . . And why are dragons able to do this?" I inquire thoughtfully.

No, really . . . Why? It's ludicrously enthralling, but why?

It is Ancalagon who answers my question. "We know not. Apparently it was a mistake Melkor made when he created us –"

"A pleasant mistake, if you ask me," Corulagon's opinion floats into my ears.

"– Just like that! And I agree with you, Corulagon, the secondary form is a lovely and very useful development."

"And so it's like a disguise? You all assume these forms and blend into societies?" I ask. I love this; I cannot wait until I reach that age . . . But I've a long way to go!

Ancalagon hums. "Yes. We assume these forms and observe society; many a time for reconnaissance purposes."

"As long as you practice your transformation and behave accordingly, no one will realize who you truly are," Jura includes with mirth dancing in his eyes. Clearly he loves this topic; but then he adds, "Well, there will probably be a handful of those who could sense a disguised dragon, albeit you don't have to worry about that."

Why am I seventeen? Can I just fall asleep and wake up as a one hundred year old dragon? I wanna transform into somethin'!

I direct my next question towards my new dad and the gentlemanly dragon. "So, what forms do the two of you assume?"

Corulagon yawns quietly and stretches his long legs in front of himself. "Lord Ancalagon takes the form of a Noldorin elf, and Jura assumes the form of a smelly human." He then rises to his black-booted feet.

"Excuse me?" Jura speaks up in a jest. "I'll have you know that my scent is rather pleasant, thank you very much!"

"Doesn't matter. All humans are smelly. And they are weak – I honestly have no idea why you would choose to be amongst one of them."

"Oh, come now! They are not all bad once you understand them. They have their own strengths and faults – it is what makes them fascinatingly human."

Ancalagon and I are quite amused as their bantering continues.

"Do not even judge me; I rather love learning about them!" Jura declares with such a dedication, to which Corulagon scoffs (either in amusement or irritation, or both) and shakes his head. My vision sees a smile trying to be held back by said elf-dragon.

It was then that Jura made the decision to shrink and morph into his secondary form. I am, once again, in awe at the transformation of Jura the dragon into Jura the human – a very attractive human . . . He stands at six-feet and two inches (I think), and unlike Corulagon, Jura's eyes are still light blue in colour. His chocolate brown hair is tastefully wavy (there are a few random unruly strands sticking out) and it fell a little bit past his shoulders, a few tendrils framing his face. His navy blue tunic looks quite comfortable, as it is moderately baggy, and his breeches and boots are identical to Corulagon's. Accompanied with his slightly tanned skin, Jura can be easily perceived as a mixture between a Gondorian (which I believe Gondor does not exist as of yet) and a Haradan.

Completing his transformation, Jura instantly, literally, hops towards an attempting-to-retreat Corulagon and proceeds to pester him.

Ancalagon also transformed, only into a too-handsome-for-words Noldor ellon. He is so damn tall, too – I think he reaches about seven-feet and four or five inches! His eyes are still a captivating ruby-red, and his straight ebony-black hair reaches past his waist . . . I think right towards his hips.

Adoptive father, please, no matter what the circumstances are, do NOT cut your hair. Not even two inches. Not even a point-five centimetre . . . Not even if Sauron pulls at it and you want to get away; your gorgeous hair deserves to be left alone.

Ah, I digress . . . Again . . . ANYWAYS:

Unlike Coru-Coru (yes, I will call him that secretly) and Jura, Ancalagon is completely dressed – looking every bit the Lord of Dragons that he is (and a little intimidating, as well). Withal, his black breeches and boots are identical to the other two, and his fitted tunic is a dark red – border lining burgundy, though more red than brown. His shiny armour is a jet black. It is elegant and well-crafted; and there are intricate elven and draconic designs. The outer side of his cloak-like cape is black and the inside of it is a dark red, only slightly brighter than his tunic. Twin swords rest comfortably behind him, situated firmly along his back.

It is his disguise that surprises me the most. It's just . . . He looks so different and unrecognizable; and yet, the same – at least, those who know him could easily deduce that he is Ancalagon the Black.

But how do they have clothes? I mean, when they transform from humanoid to dragon, wouldn't their clothing rip? Like the Hulk?

I ask Ancalagon this; and he responds with saying that with whatever clothing one is wearing, it will morph with your body.

Huh . . . That's really interesting.

The way he gazes at me is that of a loving father; and he pats me gently, soothingly, along my muzzle and neck. I purr.

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"Oi, Lavender Scales. You're clumsy."

That voice is young – boyish too, but not completely child-like – and I scramble to my feet to face this newcomer.

So prior this, I wandered throughout the lower Ered Wethrin. Ancalagon advised me not to wander without someone close by, but I couldn't help it. Ancalagon's reluctantly at Angband.

And I was bored. I wanted to explore.

Anyhow, I had travelled along the rocky cliffs; when I tripped by tangling my own limbs together, and by not really paying attention as to where I was moving along. I tumbled down a cliff that wasn't very high and landed on my left side.

Oh, how embarrassing! Especially since someone was, and is still, within close proximity.

This newcomer is a young male dragon; who is around my size, only five inches taller. His expression is rather cocky, and his eyes are swimming with sardonic amusement. Please don't behave like Coru-Coru!

But really . . . This dragon's eyes are gorgeous! They are a fiery golden; warm, passionate, scorching, bright . . . They draw me in. His scales are a nice red – more of a crimson colour. Overall, he is a rather good-looking dragon.

I swear I've never met him before, and yet I've seen a dragon with these specific colours. . .

"I know I'm attractive, but it is not polite to stare, Clumsy Lavender Scales."

Oh, the nerve! The cheek of that . . . Has he been spending time with Corulagon? I'm recognizing familiar speech patterns and facial expressions here. . .

I blink and glare with irritancy towards this . . . Asshole the Second. "You simply startled me is all! And I am not clumsy; I just tripped!"

He sniggers. "You tripped because you are clumsy."

"Oh, please, it happens to every one!"

"It never did to me –"

"Shut up!" I am enraged; and I know that I am foolishly letting my anger control me. I just can't help it. "Who the fuck do you think you are to just waltz over here into my private space?!"

"Oooooh, feisty. . ." he mumbles in mirth and releases a short laugh.

Go die. Go away.

He raises his voice clearly, and he procures a mocking bow before standing up straight and gazing into my silvery, vexed eyes. "Well, since you've asked oh-so-very politely: I am Smaug."

By instinct, my eyes widen and my mouth gaps in a wide 'O' shape.

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

*** After Note II – See~? Smaug _did_ make his appearance~! Although it wasn't much, there will be more of him in the next chapter~ :D ***

**Guest:** Awww, thanks so much~! =D It's fun writing those moments; and I'm glad you like them~ :D

**The Random Guest:** Hee Hee, thank you so much for your lovely words~! :D It's fun writing those cute scenes – and I plan to write more~ x333 Ah, really~? Although I most likely won't take that long to update, I thank you profusely~ *Offers you cake* Anyways, I hope you have a good day~ Namaaaaarië~! Adios~! xDDD

**Guest:** Thank you~! :D Here's the next one; hope you liked it~ :)

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	6. Mairon Finds Out

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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***

*** Note III – A quick note: For those of you who have read my Thranduil X OC fanfic, _To Be Willing_, the Smaug and his parents in this story will kinda be different from the Smaug and his parents in that other story~ Although, his parents' names and physical appearances will stay the same~ (I'm not introducing Smaug's parents in this chapter; I'm just adding this side note in case I forget to when I do introduce them~) =3 ***

*** Note IV – Just had a Star Wars marathon . . . It feels so good to watch those movies again after a while~ (= w =) ***

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**~ 005 – Mairon Finds Out ~**

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"I figured something out. The future is unpredictable."

~ John Green, _An Abundance of Katherines_

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Smaug.

This arrogant ass introduced himself as '_Smaug_.'

I don't know how long I stood there, gawking quite idiotically at him, but I know that it's a while because of what he says next: "Are you ever going to top staring? You look stupid. Why do you seem so shocked?"

Oh, you have absolutely noooooo idea!

I quickly close my mouth, and my widened silvery eyes morph into a glare. "Just fuck off."

The red, crimson dragon before me does not move an inch; and he looks to be more entertained than annoyed by my swearing. Rolling my eyes, I turn away from him and march down the mountain range. It is after ten steps that I feel someone bumping into the left side of my body.

"Oi, Lavender Scales! I wasn't done with you."

I turn to my left side, and my mouth twitches at the sight of this little asshole. "Well I am quite finished with you," I reply rather haughtily. The tone surprised me, for I never really use a haughty one. "You. Are. RUDE. Why are you bothering me?"

He ignores my question and snickers; soon leveling my glare with his fiery golden gaze. "I want your name."

"Why?"

"I told you mine, obligating you to tell me yours, Clumsy."

"Do not call me that!" I yell, whipping my tail against his side, twice. Although he does have a point; my anger is, quite unfortunately, taking over for the moment.

The jerk simply titters mockingly. "Oooh, the feistiness continues! If you do not want me to call you that, then tell me your name."

I sigh and close my eyes. He really is _infuriating_; though returning the fire myself won't quite help the situation. . .

Opening my eyes and taking a deep breath, I level Smaug with a calm expression (even though I'm internally flustered). "You have to ask politely, first – it's common sense."

Firstly, he does a double-take before scoffing. Secondly, his nostrils flare, and he turns his head away – I daresay in possible embarrassment. I did, after all, state indirectly that he does not have common sense.

Niehahahaha.

Victory! Kind of. . .

Turning his face towards mine, he restates his demand in a question.

Now, it is my turn to be amused. He asks said question in a deadpanned tone that sounds as though this is torture. Really, _how is it torturous to be polite_? I really cannot comprehend it. And I realize that I'm not being entirely polite either; however, I usually am. Even pissed off, I'm trying to be polite . . . AND HE STARTED IT!

Anyways, I decide to give him my name; and after doing so, he seems satisfied – and a little smug. It is then that I turn my back to him, and proceed to stroll away, calling out a, "Good day!"

I hear hurried footsteps; and unexpectedly, Smaug darts in front of me. "Leaving so soon?"

Tilting my head to the side, I question his action. "What are you doing?"

"Preventing you from leaving."

No shit, Sherlock. And for what feels like the hundredth time, I ask him, "Why? Just why?"

At that, he procures a suspiciously mischievous facial expression. "You know, I have no idea. . ."

Rolling my eyes I turn in the opposite direction. Smaug darts in front of me. Widening my eyes, I whirl away from him again . . . Only to find him right in front of me once more. . .

Damn, he's fast. No sexual innuendos intended.

I loudly groan in frustration; pushing past him as he sniggers, finally ending the obstruction of my path. After turning a sharp corner along the light, brownish-grey mountain range, I suddenly hear footsteps.

"Quit following me!" I holler at Smaug as he sashays to my side, soon matching my steps with his feet.

He gazes down at me, accompanied with a rather charming, sassy smirk. "No; I want to. You're an interesting one."

I stay silent and turn my head, fixating my silvery orbs onto where I'm sauntering. We walk in silence for a few minutes; and my cheeks feel warm as my peripheral catches Smaug staring at me.

The wind increases its' pace, and the breeze becomes stronger. The sun plays peek-a-boo with the bountiful clouds, which are gliding so smoothly along the skies.

Smaug nudges my shoulder with his muzzle; and the action, to my surprise, has me softly smiling – though I turn my head away to conceal said smile. I pretend to ignore it, but then he nudges my shoulder again, albeit with a little more force. Alright. Fine.

I flick my tail against his back, to which he instantly responds with a flick of his tail against my back. I deadpan, unimpressed at him, and he glances at me with eyes full of innocence – that cheeky –! Ugh . . . Rolling my eyes, I turn my head away from him; though, not before I catch a flicker of mischief from within his scorching orbs.

"Go away," I mumble as I increase my pace to a fast walk.

Smaug catches up to me and titters. "You know I won't – at least not now." And then he pushes his luck . . . By flicking my ass with his tail.

Let us just say that I immediately tackle him onto the hard, dusty ground.

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So here I am, bonding with Jura. Well, it's more like him giving me lessons on speaking Sindarin, but whatever. Evidently, it is a must for dragons to learn and be fluent in Sindarin and Quenya – not that I'm complaining; I rather love those languages. Jura previously mentioned that these languages are a "must learn" because, apparently, the first of dragons were created with the knowledge of both languages.

We're lounging about on one of the cliffs of the mountains as he teaches me the "easier" of the two major Elven languages. Ah, he's so patient! I really like Jura; he's a gentleman . . . Gentledragon . . . Whatever. Unlike a certain Coru-Coru and his young, fiery golden-eyed disciple of assholery and cheekiness – and general uncouth behaviour.

It is after we review Sindarin greetings, farewells, and a few other simple everyday sentences and questions; that I ask him something I keep forgetting to ask Ancalagon: "Why is it that my existence has to be kept a secret?" I mean, if I am a dragon, can I not just sneak around Angband without actually being secretive?

"Ah," Jura begins, "it's quite simple, actually. Do you remember what Corulagon shouted when he and I first discovered you?"

After a minute, I nod. "He said, 'She is not one of us.' What does that have to do with it?"

He shakes his head and gently pats mine for a few seconds. "Because what he said is exactly the reason why you have to be kept a secret. He immediately knew that your energy was different – I knew, as well, and Ancalagon knew when he first met you."

Realization dawns on me as my eyes faintly widen. He continues. "The adult dragons would know; and as beastly as they are, the Valaraukar would also know, as they are a form of Maiar. They will try to kill you!" He does not continue, as I know that with Sauron and Morgoth – especially Morgoth – they will realize _more_ than the fact that I am just simply 'not one of them.'

…

I'm flying down the mountain! Wheeeeeeee!

Jura watches over me as I continue to practice my flying, building my wing muscles in the process.

"Felicity, don't wander off too far!" I hear the chocolate brown dragon call out to me.

Puffing out my cheeks for a few seconds, I respond rather childishly whilst staring down at the indefinite river, Sirion, which ran in between Ered Wethrin and Taur-Nu-Fuin. "I wanna splash around in Sirion! It's been awhile since I've had a swim; surely that's not too much to ask?"

My hearing picks up laughter as I am then covered with shade. After twenty seconds, Jura descends past me and makes an elegant landing along the river bank. Show-off.

Finally plopping ungracefully onto the grassy river bank, I run to the water and proceed to swim about in Sirion. It's a lot different swimming as a four-legged creature than swimming as a human. The body has a better balance and stuff. . .

Ahhh, this feels so good! I'm purring. . .

I notice Jura's light blue eyes narrowing only slightly; and he raises from his comfortable lounge to a straight-backed sitting position, turning the other way. Furrowing my brow, I swim my way to land and walk over to him. "Is something wrong?"

"Stay close to me," is all he says.

A large group of orcs (I'm finally seeing orcs for the first time; and they definitely ain't pretty) appear from within my sights. They are jogging – and I think I see a human woman slung over the shoulder of one of the orcs at the front. She's wearing a simple, woolen auburn travel dress, accompanied with dark brown leather travelling boots. Her hooded cloak is a stormy grey.

Poor woman . . . I feel so bad for her! I wanna help her. . .

The orcs cease their movements when Jura hails them. As he inquires about their doings; I take the time to survey the humanoids and notice that even though orcs and dragons are technically on the same side, this rabble is rather uneasy. They look rattled, and some of them are fidgeting, or shifting uncomfortably on their feet from side-to-side.

". . . if I take the human?"

The last half of Jura's question brings me out of my calculating reverie. I spare a quizzical glance up at the dragon, before then returning my gaze towards the unconscious woman. Does he want to help her as well . . . ?

"Why?" one orc snarls. Fuck, I can smell their odour from here.

"Ah, well, this little one," the dragon coolly responds as he makes a small gesture down towards myself, "has never tried eating a human before. She is very curious."

Smart.

The orc who carries the woman growls impatiently. "This here's ours! Like he said, there are other humans over there!" He gives a flick of his head towards the direction of some distant hills. "Shouldn't be a problem for you."

The fact that Jura continues to be all calm, cool and collected kind of makes this situation amusing to me. "Yes, well, we want this one." He then, oh-so-gently, plucks the woman away with his right index finger and thumb; nestling her within his palm before placing her in front of me.

She looks young . . . And pretty . . . Parts of her lengthy, wavy black hair tickle the tops of my scaled hands as the wind blows her hair against the lower half of my forelegs.

I catch some more congested orc-voices:

"He behaves strangely."

". . . never happened before."

". . . generally don't care about our prisoners. . ."

And then they do something really idiotic; such as, taking combative positions.

I hear a low growl from the male dragon behind me; and I can feel heat as his upper chest and the throat of his long neck begins glowing as if it were molten lava. As soon as one orc releases an arrow from his bow, a huge fire bursts out of Jura's mouth. The animalistic wails of the orcs last only for a moment as the fire quickly incinerates them alive.

Heehee.

As the flames begin to die down, I feel someone's hand flopping against my leg. Casting my head downwards, I notice the woman moaning and stirring . . . And then I am met with warm brown eyes. She stares at me, studying me in silence.

Don't freak out, don't freak out –

"DRAGON!" she screams and stumbles to a sitting position. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course she's gonna panic! As she crawls backwards, looking at me in fear, her back suddenly bumps against the side of Jura's ankle on his left foreleg.

"There are more of you?! NO! SOMEONE!" The woman continues screaming. Jura and I try to tell her that we're not a threat, though she does not want to listen.

Sighing, I march so that I am standing directly in front of her. "WOMAN, CHILL! CALM YOUR SHIT!" The human stops shrieking, though she is whimpering.

"There you go again, Felicity, using that odd lingo of yours!" Jura breathes.

"What?" I sass. "It worked in shutting her up, didn't it?" The chocolate brown dragon simply rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"We should probably return you to wherever you came from. . ." I speak lowly as I playfully bat at the tip of the human's boot.

At my action, she immediately brings her knees up, and presses them against her chest with her arms going around them. "Please don't . . . NO! UNHAND ME! PUT ME DOWN!"

She resumes her shrieking as Jura gently, though firmly, picks her up in his right forehand. The older dragon sighs. "I am only returning you to your caravan. The orcs told me where, so that shouldn't be a problem."

She continues struggling against his hold, even though it is pretty much useless. She does, however, calm down and stays silent a few minutes later; when Jura's flying across the landscape. I sit atop his head, grasping onto one of his long horns for support.

…

Jura lands by some green hills – close to the woman's caravan, yet still some distance away. The woman in Jura's grasp stared up at us, surprise written all over her face at the fact that we dragons actually kept our word and returned her.

I notice that some of the humans within that caravan seemed to be re-counting their supplies; another some were repairing carts; and, a few tended to the wounds of a good portion of the group. A few women stay with a group of children, and a handful of men are disposing of their dead with dignity.

Though, it seems as though our arrival had them stopping what they were doing. Their eyes fixate unto us; and some of them fidget or sweat in fear – and puzzlement at the fact that Jura and I aren't going all berserk on them . . . Be lucky we're the sane ones.

Jura lowers his forehand to the grassy ground, and the wavy black-haired woman stumbles out of it. Her body is fully turned towards her caravan, and yet, she does not move. It is after a minute that she turns to us. Though she doesn't smile, her eyes – still filled with uneasiness – display gratitude. "Thank you for returning me to my companions," she says clearly, though softly.

"'Tis of no problem," Jura responds with a gentle smoothness. I simply smile and wave at her.

The young woman turns and walks, soon breaking out into a run towards the caravan. An older man and woman – who look like her parents – immediately hurry towards her, and they engulf her into a loving embrace.

A few more humans come and surround them; though, I don't know what happens next because Jura leaps up into the sky without warning.

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* * *

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Meanwhile, Ancalagon and Corulagon were in a stronghold city within the Mouths of Sirion; conducting some reconnaissance in their elven forms. Specifically, they were in the archives, which happened to be in the main fortress. Thankfully, for them, they were the only living organisms within the extremely large room . . . At least, for now.

Ancalagon had been sifting through documents whilst Corulagon stood near the door as a look-out. The golden-haired ellonized dragon sighed lowly and loosely crossed his arms against his dark armoured abdomen. "Lord Ancalagon, have you found what Melkor wanted?"

More rustles of parchment. The ellonized, ebony-black-haired dragon answered, though still focused on his searching. "I'm getting there. And don't refer to me by my title any longer, if you please."

Corulagon did a double-take at his companion before turning his head and focusing his gaze into the hallway. Ancalagon did not know why he said that . . . Well, maybe he did. Over the years of Jura and Corulagon being his subordinates, they had been recently growing on him – especially since Jura and he were now each other's confidants. Ancalagon did not mind developing a friendship between the two.

Pocketing a few folded parchments, the Lord of Dragons strode to where his pale green-eyed companion stood. "Shall we?"

"About time!" Corulagon breathes as the duo proceeded to sashay through polished stone hallways and staircases.

Turning a corner, they ran into three ellyn: Two armoured sentinels and a lightly armoured scout. The dragons in elven forms kept their cool, and they bowed their heads in respect when the other three did so. One of the sentinels gawked at the height of Ancalagon as the two continued on their way.

"That was close. . ." Corulagon murmured.

Ancalagon spoke clearly, though not too loud. "Just remember to not sustain eye-contact for an extended amount of time, Corulan." In their Elvish forms, Corulagon was called, 'Corulan,' and Ancalagon was referred to as, 'Ancalion.'

Finally reaching the bottom floor of the fortress, the duo came across a couple of ellith – maids. Their eyes seemed to be glued towards the elf-dragons (well, said elf-dragons were both ludicrously attractive).

Cheeky Corulagon offered them a seductive smirk and wink as he passed by them; causing one to blush, and the other to shyly look away. Ancalagon rolled his eyes and smacked the other upside his head.

"Ow! Was that really necessary?!" the golden-haired elf-dragon complained.

Ancalagon chuckled. "Oh no; it definitely was!" His tone then morphed into a more serious one. "I do not need you stalling for even a second – the sooner we leave, the better."

Corulagon subtly rolled his eyes and mumbled. "You just want to see Lavender Scales. . ."

Ancalagon smiled at the brief thought of his little one. Yes: He couldn't wait to see her after a week of not being able to do so.

The elf-dragons passed by the guarded main front door, and strolled into the sunlight-filled courtyard. Indistinctly quickening their pace out of the area surrounding the fortress, Ancalagon and Corulagon passed by two identical young adult ellyn in silvery armour, riding atop chestnut horses towards the fortress. These twins had bright, grey eyes and shiny, straight waist-length black hair (which highlighted a dark brown when light was upon it).

As these twins passed the two elf-dragons, they halted their horses and stared after them with suspicion. . .

.

* * *

.

… _Two Months Later_ …

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* * *

.

"Ahhh, so this is what Ancalagon has been up to."

Taking a relaxing stroll along one of the lower levels of the mountains whilst waiting for Ancalagon (he mentioned yesterday that he will come to see me around this time today), I suddenly halt at that voice; to which I then turn around.

There's a tall (severely tall; standing between eight to nine feet), handsome ellon with fiery ruby red eyes and straight, lusciously shiny, waist-length raven black hair – which happened to have a few random curls here and there. He wears black elegantly designed armour, accompanied with an equally as black cloak. There is a dark sword strapped about his upper left hip, and an interestingly designed spiked mace rests firmly across his back. His arms are loosely crossed, and the rest along his abdomen.

He smiles charmingly at me; albeit despite that, I can't help but feel uneasy. The smile seems innocent, and yet there's a hidden menace within it.

"Wh–who are y-you?" I manage to stutter out. Oh, come on! 'Stutter?' Really?!

I no longer think that this is an ellon of the Noldor; I mean, look at his eyes! Not only are they a ruby red, but they are fiery. They _glow_ as if a literal flame burns inside them.

"My, aren't you cute!" this guy mock-gushes. "I go by many names; though, many call me 'Sauron.'"

Wow . . . Who knew Sauron would be extremely sexy. He's just too drop-dead gorgeous for words! Those thoughts, however, escape me almost instantly. Who cares if he's alluring; this guy is Sauron! A damn Maia! Melkor's second-in-command!

Sauron, with inhuman speed, suddenly appears right in front of me. As his eyes invade mine, my mind screams for my father (yes, I now no longer refer to Ancalagon as my adoptive parent or guardian, but my father. Long story short: I simply became much attached to him; especially since I haven't had a proper father figure, as my real father died when I was a tiny little kid).

I flinch as he pats my muzzle. "You do not strike me as familiar," the Maia continues in that sickening sweet tone that is edged with creepiness. "I have never seen you around other dragons, and I know for sure that you are not a direct creation of my lord."

As soon as he proceeds to grip my muzzle harshly, I shake my head out of his hand and take a few steps backwards. "Stay back!"

The Maia tilts his head to the side and procures a fake pout. "Awww, please don't behave like this."

"I don't trust you."

He straightens his head and scoffs whilst holding a smirk. "Neither do many."

You don't say?!

"Where did you come from?" Sauron presses.

A shadow sweeps over us. "Sauron, I suggest keeping your distance," booms Ancalagon as he lands behind me, folding his wings against his back. About time! He covers my body protectively with his right forehand; in fact, the only part of me that Sauron could see is my head.

"Ancalagon!" the Maia greets with a scornful grin. "Why are you doing this? She is foreign – her energy is otherworldly – and is not one of us. I honestly cannot comprehend how she is a dragon, and yet, is not one of our lord's creations."

"That should not matter; especially since she's done nothing to impede on our lord's plans," Ancalagon responds rather calmly, though I can detect a tiny hint of fear from his tone.

Sauron laughs. "Oh, but it does! She is not one of us – and what do we do to those who are not on our side? We torture and kill them!"

I tremble as Sauron speaks – he sounds like a psychotic serial killer! He continues. "She's not even your own flesh and blood; surely killing her –"

I flinch at a sudden action: Ancalagon sweeps his tail, whipping it against Sauron and interrupting said Maia's voice. The force of my dad's tail sends the raven black-haired being flying several metres away and colliding into one of the mountain's walls. Dust emerges, and broken pieces of the mountain fling in various directions. I cringe at that, too. If Sauron wasn't a Maiar, he'd be dead with a smashed skull; broken bones sticking out of his clothing and flesh; and, spilled innards.

"Beastie wants to plaaaayyyy," the Maia tauntingly sing-songs as he manages to pop himself out of his 'kind-of-embedded-into-the-mountain-wall' situation. Stumbling a bit, he coughs out blood, and it splatters like rain onto the solid ground.

Ancalagon growls, ignoring the singing taunt. "Do not talk of her like that! This does not have to –"

And this time, it is Ancalagon who's suddenly interrupted. Sauron gives a swipe of his right hand, and an invisible force releases; knocking both Ancalagon and I several feet away. I cry as I crash into an extremely hard wall, tumbling down onto the ground and landing on my side. Ancalagon is no longer near me, though I can hear his groan as he smashes against the mountain; and my ears perceive the tumbling of rocks.

What I find strange is that I can barely move. Even though the pain is immense, I would assume that I can at least move my head or tail or something . . . But I can't move anything at all! It's as though Sauron's power paralyzed me for the moment. My vision fades slowly, and the few tears that drop from my eyes only enhance the clouding of my vision.

I can hear Ancalagon and Sauron continuing their fight. They spout curses and insults at each other – first in the Common Speech, and then in some other language I have not heard of.

I feel so weak . . . And insanely sleepy . . . I don't think I can even keep my eyes open halfway any longer. . .

.

* * *

.

The Lord of Dragons delicately scooped an unconscious Felicity into his larger left forehand. He brought her upwards to his heaving chest, holding her against his beating heart.

Sauron's dark, moderately disheveled hair fumbled gently in the rather calming, yet cool, breeze. He wiped a ribbon-like trickle of blood from the right corner of his mouth, smudging the thick liquid along his lower jaw. His chest slowly heaved up and down as he fixated Ancalagon with a widened glare of shock and anger.

Valiantly standing his ground, Ancalagon roared; and as the dragon did so, Sauron could have sworn that he felt a cold, uncomfortable tingle creeping down the length of his spine.

"SHE IS _MINE_! SHE IS _MY_ DAUGHTER, AND YOU WILL _NOT_ TOUCH HER!"

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* * *

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

**The Random Guest:** Thank you very much~! =D You're welcome; glad you liked the virtual cake~ LOL xDDD And thanks for recommending, _The Misadventures of an Impervious Mary-Sue_ – It was quite enjoyable and fun to read, and was definitely not a waste of time~ :D Adios~! (~*O*)~

**Guest:** Thank you~! :D Here's the next one; hope you liked it~ :)

**Rayne:** Thank you so, so much for liking the story; for your compliments and your critiques~! =D Glad you liked the father-daughter bond (the romance won't come 'til later; but I promise not to drag it on for TOO long). As for what more I'll come up with, thou shalt have to wait and see . . . Muahahahaa . . . ;D Yes: Felicity's and Smaug's relationship . . . Tee Hee~ x) And now for your critiques/questions/requests~! Longer chapters? I can definitely do that~ ;) I won't promise that all the remaining chapters will be longer, but I can aim for most of them to be so. :) Ancalagon keeping Felicity a secret from Sauron and Morgoth? I originally planned to write the reason why after Ancalagon saved her; but when I came to write that part, I completely forgot about it . . . Your review reminded me, so thank you~! :D As for who exactly Corulagon and Jura are, and what they mean to Ancalagon . . . I generally don't reveal everything (or most things) about a character right away, especially since there were only five chapters (well six, now) – it's not really my style . . . HOWEVER, you do have a point: Considering that I did introduce the C.J. duo at the end of Chapter One/beginning of Chapter Two, I should've at least mentioned an extra couple of things. (o.o) I hoped this chapter made some more sense into that and the 'Sauron-Morgoth-Must-Not-Know-Her-Existence' front~ :3 With Ancalagon saving Felicity from Corulagon, I did, in fact, originally plan for there to be biting, clawing, smashing, and some bone-breaking . . . I have no idea what happened . . . But I decided that at that moment, Felicity's welfare was Ancalagon's top priority; and therefore, the black dragon would want to shoo the other two away as quickly as possible~ :) Anyways: THANK YOU VERY MUCH~! And I hope you have a lovely day~! \(*-*)/

**Guest:** Thanks~! Hope you liked this one~ =D

**The Guest:** Thank you very much~ I'm glad you like it~! \(*-*)/

**Guest:** Your review made me smile so widely and I found it encouraging. x) Thank you so much for it, and for your compliments~! =D I totally agree with you on the grammatical and basic storyline standards; I mean, a person can have awesome ideas, but without at least the basic stuff, the story won't be as good as it would have been otherwise. (And yes, I also wish that there were a lot more dragon-focused stories xD). Thanks again, and I hope you have a good day~! :D

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